


(You don't have to) Stay

by Neffectual



Series: From An In-Ring Perspective [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Injury, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:58:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth comes home with J&J to look after him through the injury. They don't do a very good job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(You don't have to) Stay

It’s dark, the trip back from the specialist taking more time than Seth would have thought, or maybe it’s just so dark because everything looks dark right now. He’s been sent home with a number of pills to take, and a knee brace that looks like a medieval torture device, and Jamie and Joey to drive him and help him shower and make sure he doesn’t kill himself falling down the stairs, Hunter had joked. Seth wasn’t sure if he meant accidentally, or deliberately. Both options look tempting right now.

Getting into the house is a fucking nightmare, and Seth trips three times before he leans into Joey’s shoulders and lets him help him up the front steps. He vows next time he buys a house, it’s having a ramp. He vows next time he fucks up in the ring, there won’t be enough of him left to put back together. Everyone remembers you as a hero if you die in the ring, but just end your own career and everyone is happy to let you die on the sidelines, forgotten and alone. He’ll just be the third member of the Shield – the one who left before they got famous.

He wants a shower, to wash the scent of the hospital off him, to be clean before he slides between sheets he doesn’t change often enough, and now can’t without help. He doesn’t ask, though, and no one offers, because these are boys who stick around for their salary, not for any other reason, and no one really wants to see more of his junk than already made it onto the internet. When they go and turn down the bed in the guest room, he stares at them, watches the two of them whisper, darting careful glances over their shoulders to him, like he won’t know they’re talking about him. Eventually, he sees Joey flip a coin, and Jamie sigh in aggravation, before he drags his case into the spare room.

“You don’t have to stay.” Seth says, voice harsh from being silent so long when normally no one can make him shut up, “I’m not going to tell on you.”

Jamie gives him a look that is so laced with scorn that Seth feels himself recoil.

“What d’you think we’re being paid for, boss?” he asks, voice devoid of any feelings, just cold and dark and forbidding.

Seth doesn’t answer, just drags himself up off the couch and to bed, without asking for help. Right now, he doesn’t think he deserves it.

 

In the morning, there’s oatmeal, which Seth hates, and apple juice, which has too much sugar in it, and nothing is right, and he hates having people near him even when he’s just got a slight fever. Having people with him when he’s hurting, and the pills are lined up next to the juice is too much, and he throws the pills at the wall, Joey scooping them up quickly, and Seth wonders if he should get Kevin back from his mom, if they’ll take care of Kevin, too, if maybe tripping over him would be worth having his tiny ball of fluff curled back up against him, to feel like someone gives a shit.

They two men in his house don’t speak to him as he limps to the couch, remembering just as he settles down that the remote is tucked alongside the dvd player on the console, across the room. He stares at it for a moment, as if he can will it to fly across the room and into his hand, as if he can finally have his Harry Potter moment, but magic isn’t real and no one fucking cares about him enough to get the remote for him. He leans back into the pillows, closes his eyes, and pretends he didn’t want to watch anything anyway.

“All he had to do was ask.” Seth hears, waking a little from where he’d obviously dozed off on the couch, neck stiff and sore but nothing compared to how his knee is screaming that he’s obviously missed a dose of his pain meds, maybe more than one.

 

“He’s not going to ask for anything, you know that. He demands.” That’s Joey, who only speaks when it’s important, so dragging Seth down must be important, and fuck, that’s all he’s been since he won the title, important enough to hate, to trash talk, to beat down, but not important enough to cheer, to check on, to talk to. He is so very tired of being alone and hurt and wishing for something different, and right now if he could go back in time and make none of this ever happen, go back to when he was still with the Shield, still part of Dean and Roman – he’d do it in a heartbeat. He’s already had to give up the title, anyway, what would it matter if he gave up having it at all?

“Should’ve told the boss no amount of extra money was worth babysitting duty,” Jamie adds, cruelly, and Seth can hear the sneer, “Why he even wants to look after a dethroned champ, I don’t know.”

Seth closes his eyes again, like pretending to be asleep will work, like if he can pretend long enough, all of this will just be some fucked up dream, the throbbing in his knee will go away, these men in his house will go away, and he’ll be back here with Dean and Roman, Kevin around their feet, drinking beer and talking shit, and it will be like he never ruined his own life by trying to improve it. He can still feel the weight of where the title belt usually sits, snug against his belly, like it’ll come back if he just keeps his eyes shut. Eyes closed, the monsters in his head have free rein, the pain in his knee is more obvious, Jamie’s voice ranting from the kitchen rises to a crescendo, and when he pulls the couch cushion over his head and holds it there, he almost wishes Joey and Jamie’s hands were holding it down, instead of pulling it back. The air hurts his lungs.


End file.
